


Wrong.

by sdk



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry Potter Next Generation, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Linear Narrative, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-28 08:21:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5085331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdk/pseuds/sdk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albus has known it from the first day they met: he can't live without Scorpius Malfoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> As soon as I saw this prompt, I knew I had to write it, despite it being a bit out of my comfort zone. Thank you this_bloody_cat for inspiring me to stretch myself; I really hope you enjoy it! And so much love to my beta for your cheerleading and advice and excellent suggestions. You're amazing. <3

Albus wakes up warm and wet. He wakes up hard. The covers bunch at his knees, his thighs lie spread, legs slightly bent, and a head bobs between them. Silky blond hair tickles Al’s skin. 

Albus closes his eyes and sighs, but he thrusts his hips to let Scorpius know he’s awake. Scorpius gags with the third jut of his hips but doesn’t stop sucking. Albus doesn’t stop either. He knows how much Scorpius likes Al’s cock stuffed in his stretched mouth. 

Scorpius likes anything that gets Albus off. _Everything_ that gets Albus off.

Al’s a lucky bloke, really.

-

My dad’s giving me that look of his, father-knows-best concern laced with a fair amount of impatience like he knows I’ve already dismissed his worries before he’s had his say. He’s brought me to the kitchen with the pretense of carrying the dishes to the sink, as if his wand couldn’t do the trick all by its lonesome. But I indulge my dad, when I can. 

I am the favoured son, after all.

“It’s just…he hated you. You hated him.”

Scorpius laughs in the dining room. I can feel his smile even if I can’t see him. And I bet Lily’s got her head propped up on her hand, eyes soft and dreamy. I’m not the only Potter infatuated with Scorpius Malfoy. 

I’m a bit antsy to get back to Scorpius, but I tell myself he’s fine. Lily’s too busy giggling and batting her eyelashes to notice anything amiss. James already bolted before Dad and I finished clearing the table. If he gave a second thought about my boyfriend over Sunday dinner, I’d be surprised.

I wave my dad off. “When we were kids, yeah.”

“It wasn’t that long ago—and now you’re moving in together? Sharing a flat? You’ve just got out of school.”

“Don’t you think it’s better that we left our grudges behind at Hogwarts?”

My dad tries to hide it, but I see his cheeks grow warm, and he hastily sets the dishes up to clean themselves.

“I just want what’s best for you. Both your mum and I do.”

I pat my dad on his shoulder. “This is. Trust me.”

Not for the first time I wonder if I should let my dad in on my little secret. Mum’s remarried already. And I’ve seen the way Dad still looks at Scorpius’ father.

It might do him some good.

-

Scorpius rolls over, naked from the waist down. Al pushes his t-shirt up, admires the dip of his back, the curve of his firm, round ass. 

Two drops in the morning, two at night, and Scorpius is always willing and able for whatever Al has in mind. 

Al licks Scorpius open, feels Scorpius writhe against his tongue. He moans, undone. He moans, begging for more. 

“Tell me you want this,” Al whispers. “Tell me you want me.” He scrapes his teeth across that delicate skin.

And Scorpius, strung out on forced pleasure, grips the bed clothes and cries, “Please.”

-

Scorpius lies on the cold tiles, legs askew, hair fanned around his head like a white-blond halo. His eyes are still bright with surprise from when the stunner hit his chest. 

I wonder if this is how his father looked, spread out over these same dingy-white tiles in the girls bathroom. I’ve heard the stories. Everyone at Hogwarts has. Though when I used to ask my dad about it, a dark look would come over his eyes and he’d shake his head. “Someday I’ll tell you,” he’d say. “Someday. Not today.” 

(Someday turned out to be after a bottle of Ogden’s finest after my mum left. “Things like that you can’t ever take back,” he told me in a slurred drunken whisper. “Things like that—you can’t ever make them right.”)

I look down at Scorpius. I imagine his shirt sliced open, shredded in red. I’d considered it once, when this plan of mine was still shapeless, a fuzzy fantasy that hadn’t yet coalesced into anything more. There’d be a certain poetry about it, a satisfying end, but I dismissed the idea almost at once. 

I’ve known it since the first day I met him. I can’t live without Scorpius Malfoy. 

Instead I kneel beside him, tilt his head up. 

“Open for me,” I whisper. His lips part easily with a brush of my fingers. Almost as if he wants this as much as I do. 

Two drops on the tip of his tongue are all it takes, at least if I’ve brewed this right. The impending moment of truth sends my heartbeat skittering; I didn’t think I’d be this nervous and my wand slips in the sweat of my palm. 

_Obliviate_ , I chant inside the safety of my own head. _Obliviate, Obliviate, Obliviate._ It’s my escape hatch, my parachute; I’ve practised the spell on Lily as many times as I’ve tested the brew. 

Scorpius blinks. Once, twice. I take a deep breath. I tell myself, _Wait._

“Albus?” He sounds out my name like an infant who’s just learning to speak. I stare into his eyes and find no trace of that familiar disgust. My hand comes to his cheek. His skin is even softer than I imagined. He leans into my touch, rubbing his face against my palm. “Oh, Albus,” he sighs, quiet, content.

Then his hand shoots up and grips my robe, catching on my prized Head Boy badge. Panic seizes my chest. I fumble, and my wand slips free from my grasp. 

That’s when Scorpius yanks me down and kisses me. 

-

Albus rubs his cock along the crease of Scorpius’ ass, along the tender slickness of saliva and skin. But Scorpius bucks and turns over. 

“Can we do it like this?” he asks shyly. But he pulls his knees to his chest; he displays himself.

Scorpius doesn’t ask for things in bed, not anything but, _More, Albus, please._

“Yeah,” Al says, stunned, and then— “Yes.” He grabs the backs of Scorpius’ thighs, folds him in half. “Yes,” he breathes, sinking into heat.

“Look at me.” Scorpius’ says, voice choked and small. But he begs again and again until their eyes lock.

-

Huddled under my dad’s invisibility cloak, we race down the corridors. My pants are sticky and we both reek of sex from the frantic frotting in the girl’s bathroom, but I’m already hard again, just from the heat of Scorpius’ body, from the feel of our fingers laced together, his hand in mine. A joyous laughter bubbles up within me; I try to stifle it, but it comes out in little gasps. Scorpius looks at me as if I’ve gone mad, but it’s a fond sort of exasperation that makes me laugh more. 

“What?” he whispers. 

I shake my head and smile. “I’m happy.” 

My only warning is a flash of Scorpius’ evil little grin before he shoves me up against the nearest wall and kisses my laughter away. 

“We need to be quiet,” he breathes against my lips. The cloak has slipped down to his shoulders, but it doesn’t matter; we won’t be caught. I know it in my bones just as sure as I know this is how things are supposed to be. Scorpius’ body is hard against mine, the swell of his cock rubs my thigh, and his hand slips between our bodies to cup me through my trousers. 

Minutes later, I come in my pants, the second time in an hour. I come with Scorpius’ name on my lips and his breath hot and heavy in my face. I come hearing him sigh my name, _Albus, Albus, oh God, Albus._

But it isn’t until later, after we’ve made it to my dorm and behind the safety of spelled-shut bed curtains, after I’ve taken him, claimed him, marked him from the inside, while he lies naked in my arms and the cold light of day creeps in through the tower window—it isn’t until then that Scorpius whispers, “Love you, Al,” and I know one night isn’t enough. 

And I know I can’t ever let him go.

-

A harsh beam of sunlight yanks Al from his slumber. He blinks. The feeling of _wrong_ pervades more quickly than awareness, but it’s not until he stretches that his mind provides the reason why. 

His arm sinks into the coldness of a vacated bed. No warm body to turn to for a lazy morning fuck or a quick good morning hand job. 

Albus is alone. 

He sits straight up. “Scorpius?” he calls. The room answers with silence. His heart thuds, fast as a hippogriff’s gallop. He fumbles for his wand when the bedroom door opens with a bang and Al screams.

-

I find the letter tucked into the drawer on the nightstand, behind a nearly empty pot of lube and the Slytherin tie Scorpius sometimes pulls out when I’m in the mood to tie him up. It’s from Scorpius’ father, Mr Malfoy, and it reads just like the others he’s sent. The others that Scorpius has given me or that I’ve intercepted—the others where I’ve carefully crafted Scorpius’ response. Polite refusals of dinner invitations citing scheduling conflicts or unexpected sickness. Promises that he’ll be invited over to the flat soon once we’ve got things set up just so and the timing works out. There’s only so long I can hold Mr Malfoy off, but perhaps if my dad is there…

Maybe if I drug him…

My thoughts are interrupted by a blast of steam and the steady rainbeat of the shower as the bathroom door swings open and Scorpius pops his head out. 

“Coming?” He smiles, soft and lazy. “Or do you need more enticement?” He gives me a peek of naked thigh. The jut of his hip bone has me salivating. But my mind itches like I’ve forgotten something important and a glance at the clock jolts me back from the fog of desire. 

“Wait—your medicine. It’s past—”

“I already took it. Two drops, just like always. You know I am capable of taking it without you,” Scorpius chides. “Come on, or we’ll be late for dinner.”

Scorpius’ mind is open and welcoming, and with a quick brush through his recent memories, I see him with the vial; I see him open his mouth, stick out his tongue, and carefully squeeze out two drops, just as I always do. _Albus would want me to go ahead. Albus would want me to take care of myself._ The thought is so strong, it bangs around my head with a loud clamour, and I quickly withdraw before I get a headache.

Scorpius turns and flashes a hint of his bum before disappearing behind the shower curtain. 

I do have more enjoyable matters to attend to, after all.

-

Albus’ scream is cut short when he sees Scorpius in the doorway. He holds a silver tray, breakfast, Al guesses, beneath the covered dish on top. Al feels a bit silly and laughs, shaking his head. Relief floods through him, immediate and palpable—

“It’s just me.” Scorpius smiles. “Did I scare you?” 

—And fades when Al notices the tightness of Scorpius’ lips. 

_Wrong._

“Just startled me. What time is it?” 

Al's gaze drops to Scorpius' hands, gripping the tray as he steps further into the room. 

_Wrong._

"Half ten. You really had a lie in."

Al swallows against the tightness in his throat. He reaches behind himself, pawing at the nightstand. 

"Did you take your medicine already?" Scorpius takes another step toward the bed. Al's heart roars in his ears.

“I know you like to give it to me, but I didn’t want to wake you. I made you breakfast.” 

“Great. That’s great.” Al's fingers meet the base of the lamp, but nothing else. “But it’s important—your medicine.”

Scorpius cocks his head. “Albus would want me to go ahead,” he says. “Albus would want me to take care of myself.”

“Yes.” Al takes a deep breath. He tries to smile. If he could just find his bloody wand… 

And then he sees it. His wand. Rolling back on the tray. 

Al stops breathing. He lifts his gaze to Scorpius'. It’s written all over his eyes.

_Wrong, wrong, wrong._

A split second later, Scorpius grabs the wand and thrusts it at Al’s chest.

Light flashes, and his dad’s voice echoes in his head, over and over.

_Things like that, you can’t ever take back. Things like that, you can’t ever make them right._

-

I follow the winding path towards the Quidditch stands as if a magnet is pulling me along rather than my own two feet. I find Scorpius there, beneath, as I knew I would. This is his favourite place to study once spring really sets in and his spot by the lake is taken over by other students seeking warmth. He could be alone in the library, or nearly so, but it’s too quiet in the library. He likes the whoosh from the brooms during Quidditch practice. The roaring cheers and stomping feet during a game. 

But today, only the occasional owl swoops by. No practice is scheduled. Hufflepuff vs. Slytherin isn’t for a fortnight. There aren’t even any stragglers flying about for fun as there so often are when the Pitch isn’t officially in use. 

Today is the day. I feel it singing in my blood, clamouring in my chest, pounding in every footstep. _Today is the day he’ll finally see you._

Scorpius frowns as I approach. He closes his Potions textbook and shoves it his bag. “Just leaving,” he mutters. “The place is yours.”

“You don’t have to pretend,” I tell him. “No one can see us.”

He scrunches up his face like he doesn’t understand. But of course he understands. It’s in his blood too.

I move closer when he stands. He backs up, but I crowd him against a pillar. I take the strap from his bag, slip it from his hand, and it falls to the ground. He stares at me wide-eyed. He stares at me like I’m mental. 

This isn’t how he’s supposed to look. 

I cup his cheek and lean in. I feel the ghost of his breath, the cold touch of his lips, then two hands shove against my chest and I stumble backwards, nearly falling as I slide through dirt. 

“Get away from me,” he says. He grabs his bag, throws it over his shoulder. I try to grab it, but he shoves me again. My chest grows tight, and my breath’s all bottled up, choking my heart. 

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. 

“We’re not our fathers,” I finally manage to say. He stops in his tracks. My heart sings.

“What?” 

“You don’t have to hate me,” I say. I know he understands. If I could just make him see. I stumble forward, but he pulls his wand, aims it straight at my chest, and I stop short. 

“I don’t hate you,” he says. Disgust is all I see. In the twist of his lips, the narrow slits of his eyes, the hard angle of his cheek. “I don’t care enough to hate you. You’re nothing to me. Leave me alone.”

“You’re wrong!” 

But he’s already turning, striding away, leaving angry puffs of dirt in his wake. 

“You’re wrong,” I say, even though now he can’t hear. 

But it doesn’t matter. He’ll see. 

I sit in the same spot where I found him. I pull out my Potions textbook, the same as his, and set it in the small indent of the dirt where his just lay. 

“You’re wrong,” I whisper as I open the book. I’ll make him see, one day. 

I’ll make him see that I’m everything. 

-

I close my eyes, and when I open them, my beloved Scorpius leans over me. Bitterness touches my tongue, but I swallow it down as I’m supposed to. Because that’s what Scorpius wants me to do. 

“Very good, Albus,” he says. “Very good. It’s very important you always take your medicine. I want you to take care of yourself.”

He smiles at me, pats my head, and his touch, though brief, is like sunshine.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You can show your appreciation for the author in a comment here or on [livejournal](http://hp-nextgen-fest.livejournal.com/87944.html).


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